


Being Thankful

by PeroxidePirate



Category: Tamora Pierce - Emelan
Genre: Emelan, F/F, Tamora Pierce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeroxidePirate/pseuds/PeroxidePirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>quick little Thanksgiving fic: Rosethorn is still recovering from her close call, and the residents of Discipline are grateful to be together. Some Lark/Rosethorn smushiness, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Thankful

Lark supervised the washing up of supper dishes, as necessary on a feast day as on any other. The harvest celebration meal had come from Dedicate Gorse's kitchen in the Hub, but the dishes used for serving and eating still had to be washed and dried.

She looked around Discipline's clean kitchen, afterward. "Thank you," she said to her four foster children.

They accepted her thanks, or brushed her off, according to their natures. Then there was an exchange of glances that told her they were having a silent conversation.

"Lark?" Sandry asked. "It's just now dark. Can we go up to the roof for a while?"

"Of course. Don't stay up too late."

.

Lark found Rosethorn resting on the bench they'd placed just outside her workshop, only a few steps from Discipline's front door. "How are you?"

Rosethorn just lifted her hands and shook her head.

That bad, Lark thought, sitting down beside Rosethorn. She reached up and rubbed her partner's back.

"I tried to send the children to eat at the Hub," Lark said. "I know it took a lot out of you, sitting through dinner..."

Rosethorn gave a dry laugh. "I'm not _that_ weak."

Lark bent her head to look Rosethorn in the eye.

"Ok, yes, I am that weak," Rosethorn admitted. "But I didn't want them to worry."

"They're just glad to have you here," Lark said softly. "As am I."

They sat in silence for a while, Rosethorn sagging into the curve of Lark's arm.

Rosethorn spoke at last. "What are you thankful for, Lark?"

"The same things as always: a pleasant home, a good community, work I love, friends who are my family. And most of all, you, Rosie."

"Me?" The word came out as another croak of a laugh.

"You."

"I'm not what I was," Rosethorn said. Her words slurred more than usual, product of exhaustion and wine. But they came more readily, too. "I look across the garden – the boy did most of it this summer, did you know that? So lucky to have him. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do it by myself. Don't know if I'll ever get well. The children aren't a bit scared of me now – magic or no, I couldn't hang a handkerchief in the well, let alone a person. And I'm so tired, Lark. All I want to do is sleep. Why am I even here? What am I now?"

_"'What'_ was never the question, love. Gardener, mage, foster mother, woman-who-sleeps-all-the-time – it doesn't matter what you are. _Who_ you are hasn't changed." She kissed Rosethorn's temple.

"And who's that?"

"The woman I love," Lark said simply. "That's something, isn't it?"

Rosethorn leaned closer into Lark's shoulder. "Yes."

.

Tris lay on her back, watching the night sky. "That's the archer," she said. "And if that cloud wasn't there, you'd see--"

"The boar." Briar grinned at her surprise. "See, I'm learning."

Sandry faced the other direction. If she pointed her toes at the roof's peak and lay face-down, she could hang onto the edge of the roof and see Rosethorn's bench below. "Do you think Rosethorn knows?" Sandry whispered to Daja, who'd come to join her.

"Knows what?"

"That Lark's in love with her?"

Daja blinked. She'd never considered the possibility, but dozens of pieces suddenly dropped into place. "She is," Daja agreed, watching the women below. It was hard to see details in the dark, but Lark and Rosethorn shifted position. Then their heads came together in what could only be a kiss – and it went on and on.

"She might know," Daja whispered, and Sandry clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"I think it's sweet," Sandry murmured, when the desire to laugh had passed.

"I think it's rude for us to watch." Daja carefully turned herself around.

"Of course. You're right." Sandry turned onto her back, joining the others in looking up at the stars.

She sent a thought down the magical bond she shared with all of her foster siblings. _I'm so thankful to have all of you._

_Me, too,_ they all replied.


End file.
